The Greatest Gift
by Mistykins06
Summary: Sherlock gets more than he ever bargained for when Molly goes into labor on his birthday.
1. Chapter 1

**So this story is a result of a conversation in the Sherlolly Chat room 11 months ago. 11. 11. that's terrible. Actual children have been gestated and born in that length of time it took me to work on this one little idea and edit. So it with my sincere apology that I dedicate this fic to TheSherlollysmooch.**

 **Warning** : this story is about labor. It's detailed and very TMI. So if discussion about what the body goes through right before during and after birth bother you, you may want to skip this. But despite all that there is fun and fluff. But if words like 'placenta' and 'dilated' bother you I totally get it. Move on to another fic with my whole hearted blessing. But if you care to hear about some shenanigans that happened on the way to the deliver center, press on.

Not Brit-picked. At all. Although I tried, but it seems giving birth is really different from here in the US where I live... And tbh, I wish I could have done it in the UK!

If there was one thing that Sherlock Holmes hated it was sharing. He hated sharing credit on cases, he hated sharing HIS possessions. He hated sharing period.

However, he did love his birthday. Trite as it may be, he loved it. After all it was HIS day. The one day where he was virtual king while growing up. And then there was the gifts. Yes, some where inane jokes but some... some where delightful and intriguing little rapid fire mysteries. All to simply please him. It was all rather splendid.

That's why moments after learning that he was going to be a father for the first time he began to sulk. Oh, not about the child, that had been a goal that he and Molly had been after for several months. It was morse so to do with the fact that in the span of a breath he'd had to worked out the timeline of the pregnancy from conception to due date and he was not happy with where the result led him to. Even less so when the doctor announced similar findings as to a due date: January 6th. Sherlock's birthday.

"The baby will come on my birthday." He pouted at his own prediction.

"Sherlock, you know the chances of that happening are remotely slim right? The law of probability lists many other plausible dates!" He pouted further. And Molly sighed, "Time will tell darling. Only time. But I doubt you have anything to worry about. I came nearly 2 weeks late you know." Molly said kissing his cheek making him smile before turning to rest her hand on her lower belly, stroking the hardly viewable firmness when she turned away his face fell again. Sherlock didn't tell her that a Holmes always arrived uncannily on time

As it turned out, the OB was certain the Molly's petite body was going to need to be induced to get the baby to come, and they set the date a week and a half past Sherlock's own birthday much to his delight. He tried to banish the fear that plagued him about having to share HIS one day.

January 6th,

He woke that morning in an uncharacteristically good mood. It was his birthday! For once a majority of the people would be at least attempting to placate him. And there'd be his favorite brunch along with the private tour of some of the mysteries hidden from the public at the national museum for he, Molly, and John to tour in the afternoon. All leading to dinner where they'd meet Lestrade and Mary and the delightful toddler Abigail. And then there'd be the splendid Chocolate cake from his favorite bakery. And gifts. All for him.

Molly woke up in a far less congenial mood and slowly made her way out of their bed in a completely inelegant manner. After a hurried trip to the loo she came out to the main living area rubbing her extraordinarily swollen belly as it stretched and filled out a tee shirt. A tired but serene smile was on her face as she began to sing a low and warbled version of 'happy birthday' through her husky morning voice as she waddled over and kissed his cheek and wrapped her arms around him where he sat at the kitchen table. "Good morning."

Sherlock stood up and gave her a peck on her forehead, one hand caressing their daughters...humm knee through her shirt and belly causing the tiny thing to twirl closer to the contact. Molly winced before trying to hide her grimace from Sherlock.

Pulling back Sherlock studied her belly. "She's dropped a bit more."

Molly nodded. "It feels nice that she's off my ribs though."

"Mhm. I'd imagine so." Sherlock agreed as he studied her. The baby was much lower than the previous day. He looked over her to see if there was any other new developments since last night. Satisfied that their child was lower, but not showing any immediate sign of arrival he let her go.

Molly went to the kitchen and started her toast, eggs and tea while Sherlock moved to the desk to amuse himself on the laptop and do a cursory brief check that no pressing cases had come in.

After her quick meal, Molly had gone to dress she came out in a simple dress and leggings and her signature ponytail looking fresher and moving a bit faster. Sherlock watched her quietly, studding her and her stride as she moved about, grabbing her phone.

"Only six of the 'are you still pregnant' texts today." She laughed then stopped suddenly.

Sherlock jumped up to her. "Everything ok?"

She laughed. "Just another... practice contraction. You'd think I'd be used to them by now. Im fine!" The tone was a bit too cheery, even for Molly.

"How often?" He asked calmly, but internally the pouting had begun.

"Not...So often Sherlock. We're fine. Are you all set?" She said, turning away from him.

"Yep." He responds with a loud popping 'P'. Behind his back he noted the time of the false contraction into his phone. "But aren't you forgetting to give me my gift?"

"Oh you'll get it alright. Tonight. At dinner." She grinned at him.

"Now Molly darling, I'm not sure that behavior is acceptable in public." Grinning cheekily at her flushing he laughed. "And you know that behavior is recommended to begin labor so as tempting as you look, let's let her wait a few days more."

"Right because you don't want to share your birthday." It was a

statement. A rather resigned one at that.

"Nope. It's mine. She can have her own. I see no reason to share mine." He stated. Then turned his head and narrowed his eyes at her yet again. "Is there?"

"I think I'm contracting." She said complety serious, her eyes wide, watching his face to judge his reaction. "The real ones."

"It will pass." Came his obnoxious, yet uncertain toned reply.

"We're nearing the time I should call the midwife." Molly admitted.

"Why don't you go drink some water and sit down. It will pass." Nodding distractedly, Sherlock turned away trying to remember everything he read about slowing labor.

Molly went to the kitchen and poured water. A moment after the refrigerator closed he heard the sound of water hitting the ground.

"Need help cleaning that spill?" Sherlock smiled at himself. He was still always so proud when he remembers to be polite to her.

"Um, Sherlock!" Her alarmed voice cried. He looked into the kitchen and there Molly stood with a completely full glass of water.

Standing there staring at her till he understood. "Your water broke."

"It's time to go to the birth centre." She told him firmly, giving no room for arguments. Of course Sherlock had to try.

"You can go up to 24 hours before giving birth after your water breaks Molly."

Shaking her head no she said. "We're going now Sherlock."

"Can't we just wait and see? A little while won't hurt to wait right?" He asked rather feebly.

Just then a contraction hit. It hit like a train. "Oh! Ouch. Bollocks!" Molly's face transformed into anguished pain. Sherlock rushed to hold her. All at once done with his fit and straight into being fully concerned for her. "Oh God it's as bad as they all say! The water cushioned it so much more than I thought- Ahhhhhhhh" She cried out, grabbing his arms for support.

"Right then, time to go." Sherlock used his free hand to use an app to quickly hail a cab then began collecting some of the liquid off the floor. Such a rare thing couldn't be wasted after all. He had a series of tests he planned to run and he couldn't wait to play with it. Later. While the baby slept.

What a strange, terrifying thought.

Molly meanwhile headed off to change and he finished in the kitchen. Once it was clean his eyes drifted to the cake sitting in its box in he counter. Dark chocolate cream frosting. Pound cake centre. It looked divine and smelled like joy. Such a shame that it was going to be stale by the time they came home from the birth centre...

Just one little piece. No one would fault him after all. It was HIS birthday. He found himself humming the ridiculous song as he cut a slice.

The slice eneded up being far more than little. In fact it was large. And it smelled divine. He tucked into it while checking on the cab status. 8 min to arrival.

Molly wobbled back into the kitchen but stopped suddenly as a shade of green covered her face. "What is that awful smell!?" She was nearly gagging.

Sherlock looked around him for old rags, or open chemicals perhaps. Finding nothing obvious he asked , "What?"

"That!" Molly pointed at the cake.

"This? It's my chocolate cake! The one you ordered for me. It's delicious." He couldn't understand how she could feel that way. "Would you like a bite?"

"A bite?! No! Can you just get rid of it before I get sick?" She begged.

"I... Oh alright." With one last bite he dumped the largely uneaten cake slice away. Mycroft might have shed a tear. Might still if he had bugged the flat again.

"Well then, are we ready?"He asked as he grabbed the bag just in their bedroom door.

"Jesus Christ! How this hurts!"

Another contraction hit. He made a note of the time. Seven minutes past the last.

He held her hand through it then helped her into her coat, then helped her down the steps."Were so lucky Martha's not home this morning. She'd be well into a tizzy by now." Molly sighed with relief.

 _Quite so_. Sherlock thought, looking for the cab. Where the hell was it? He wanted to have Molly settled and in before the next contraction hit. Finally there was to cab coming down the street, and flew past the it passed right by them and down to the next block.

"Are you kidding me?!" They both yelled in unison.

"Come back were at 221!" Sherlock called. Molly started moaning. Not good. Not good at all. The driver made no response other the to lay on his horn for his passengers who were a block away and very much in the throws of labor.

"I'll go get him Molly. Just..um, yes. Just stay right there and.. Ah.. hold on." Molly was clinging to the fence railings with both hands till the knuckles went white.

Sherlock went running to the cab parked just in the block when he reached it he pounded on the window. "You drove by the pick up you fool. Drive back to 221."

"I ain't no fool mate. Says right 'ere Baker Street, numba' 231." The man shoved his phone into Sherlock's face.

Damn. It did. Sherlock scolded himself for letting the labor get in he way of his mental facilities. "Yes, I see. However, I need you to go back to 221. She's in a great deal of pain and I-"

"Look man, my order says 231 Baker street. So, I'm staying right here for my can bring her to me or find a new cab. So you make the call." It couldn't be helped, not if he wanted to get on their way in the quarter of an hour they would have had before another cab showed up. Molly would contract again before that happened several times. Desperate times, called for desperate measures. "Fine! Just wait here." Then he took off running back to see Molly struggling to pick up their hospital bag. Sherlock sprinted to grab it from her and explain the issue.

"Our cabbie is refusing to return. Do you think you can walk to him or should I call round another?" He said barely hiding his irritation.

Standing up straight she shook her head. "No, I think I can do this. Let's go." Molly walked, well more waddled at her normal, well normal pregnant pace.

"How are you feeling?" He chanced asking as they approached the curb to cross over the street.

"Like any second I'm going to tear in two." She said mournfully. "I was really hoping this labor pain thing was going to be an exaggeration but my hips feel ready to snap apart. "

"That would be her moving down into the birth canal." He noted, guiding her across the intersection.

"Yes, believe it or not Sherlock Holmes, I do know exactly WHAT is happening with her and I both right now. I did attend medical school if you recall. Thank you kindly enough." Molly snapped.

"Oh, is this the part of labor where you berate me and make vows to never let me touch you again?" He questioned, with a small touch of sarcasm. An icy glare met him."It's ok Molly. John told me how Mary made all those promises and more in 7 different languages when she was laboring with Abigail. It's fine. Have you begun using your breathing techniques?" Speaking of John, Sherlock still needed to text him. That would wait through.

"Oh I'm going to do more than threaten you if this pain worsens. Mary might have an extensive vocabulary, but I have practical knife skills with a scalpel. Should you make any terrible deductions of me during this time I will show you just how I know to inflict pain and will permanently render you from ever getting me into this situation again."

They reached the car and the oaf of a driver popped the trunk without even exciting his cab to assist. Sherlock placed the bag in the back and hurried to Molly to help her get in hurrying as only one more minute remained before the next contraction was due. However, he was climbing into the cab when Molly began to wail as the pain hit. She gritted her teeth and slammed her eyes shut while blindly reaching for him.

"Awe, no. No. Nope. No mate. No babies will be born in my cab. Too much damn paperwork and cleaning, and I'll not have some bird up the duff spewing fluids in here. I suggest you find another ride." The cabbie spoke while shifting the cars gears back into park.

"The fact that you have four of your own and not just the two children, as your wife so believes, leads me to think you've been here a time or two. Now get us to the birth centre!" Sherlock snapped. Molly moaned at the noise.

"Who the hell told you about my kids? I'm gonna murder 'im." The cab driver muttered."What are you some sort of Psychic? I don't take well to any of you types in my cab." The cretin sniffed at them while be glared into the rearview mirror in disgust and a poorly hidden tinge of fear. Idiot.

Molly started tensing once more, eyes closed tight with her hands gripping her firming belly. "What say we forget his children and focus on getting to the centre to have our own!" She wailed. "Please sir! Please just go." After a moment of indecision the car started to drive off and it seemed to Sherlock that the reprobate driver seemed intent on hitting each pothole to be found. As the car got further away from Baker. street, Sherlock struggled to fight urge to hurt the driver as it intensified with each soft moan of pain that Molly let out. Looking for a distraction, he pulled out his phone text John to distract himself.

 _Change of plans, were heading to both centre.- SH_

 _Today!?- JW_

 _I'll meet you there. -JW_

 _No. No. Don't do that. Come later. After. Not now. Understood? SH_

 _No, I'll be there, in the lounge if you need me. -JW_

 _You're going to a dada.-JW_

 _John. No. Stop you did this for three months after you found out Molly was expecting. You're regressing. Stop now_. -SH

 _Daddy Sherlock_ \- JW

 _I will block you. So much as one more And..._

The cab hit a massive pothole. Molly cried out and Sherlock gripped the door. Phone forgotten momentarily in his hand.

"Think you can at least try to stay out of the holes? You are hurting her. And I won't let anyone hurt her ever again, do you understand. " He forced out through clenches jaw.

"Eh, I'm not the one who caused your bird that pain. That be you _sir_."

"I know that you ingrate!" Sherlock shouted with disgust

"Well just pointing out the obvious" the driver smirked.

"I'm paying you to drive us, not berate us. You shall decease at once or believe me when I tell you that I will find your home, BOTH of them and will explain how you are a liar and a bigot and just why you are not 'home' on consecutive nights due to your 'work.'"

The cabbie slammed on his breaks. Sending his passengers flinging forward. Sherlock instinctively reached over to protect Molly from hitting the seat in front of her. "Out of my cab. Now! Both of you!"

Molly continued to braced herself after the abrupt motion of the stopping cab. And looked from one snarling man to the other.

"Let's go Sherlock." She whispered.

Holmes continued to glare at the man whom he'd very much like

to kill with his bare hands sitting in the row in front of him then he felt Molly's hand on his arm. He turned to look at her and her tiny fingers clenching his suit coat (why hadn't he put on his Belstaff?) and then up into her deep brown eyes. She shook her head in the smallest of moments and he finally gave a single nod. Truth be told, it was one of favorite things about his and Molly's relationship. This ability to silently communicate with one another. And right now she was simply asking to go give birth to their daughter.

"We're going, but I'm not paying you one cent for this abusive ride." He said throwing his door open and then ran around to assist Molly who huffed, puffed and rocked her way out of the cab. They had just shut the door when the cabbie slammed on the gas and took off.

"Sherlock our bag!" Molly shouted as the car sped away.

"On it." And he pulled out his mobile and hit a speed dial. "Lestrade, I need one of your more diligent officers to retrieve Molly and I's hospital bag. It got stolen by a cabbie... Yes, I'll text you the number. And will you bring it to us at the birth centre?" Sherlock looked at his watch and at Molly. A few more minutes till the next 'episode' and they needed another cab. "Yes Greg, that's the one." Sherlock waited for the screaming to die of on the other end. "Well of course that's your name. What else would it have been? Now when you go retrieve the bag you will also find the driver a Mr. Coleman is a bigamist. A fact his wives might find interesting no doubt. I was fairly distracted but I'm fairly sure that he is running a scam on these women. I also am considering pressing charges for attempted vehicular manslaughter if nothing sticks." Sherlock rolled his eyes at Molly who was just staring at him with a slightly amused and loving gaze. Looking around he spoke again to Lestrade. "And also send us an officer to meet us at Regent's park. We still need a ride to the birth centre." He then clicked the disconnect button without waiting for the other mans answer. Seeing Molly still looking at him he asked, "What?"

"I knew you've been calling him by the wrong name on purpose." She smiled lovingly at him.

"I'm sure I have no idea what your talking about." He lied and grabbed her hand and led her to as quiet a spot as possible in the busy plaza giving her hand a gentle squeeze as the walked. She moved slower than she had and despite the smile seemed very on edge. Once they stopped he pulled her into his arms so that she could rest against him, for once mindless of the crowd aground them. "How are you doing?"

"I'm...here?" She attempted a little levity but it sounded hollow. Another contraction was starting and Molly turned her head into his neck in order to not draw attention to herself.

"I'm sorry Molly. I'm so, so sorry. I should have kept my mouth shut and we'd be arriving there soon." Sherlock caressed her back as soothingly as he could as the contraction held her in its grip.

After the intense moments passed. She lifted her head to look at it him.

"Did you just apologize for telling off the cabbie?" Molly blinked at him when he didn't reaspond. "Sherlock, you did the right thing. If he hit so much as one more bump I was going to reach up strangle him till he would stop his gob from running. Permanently." Squeezing her a bit he let a low rumble of a laugh out. He really did love her.

They continued to stand together untill a police car arrived on the scene with lights and horns blaring. "Well it looks like our ride is here." Sherlock noted as the car pulled up in front of them. They made there way to it, paying no mind to the people staring at them. After once more settling Molly in and himself as well they prepared to take off.

"Heard you caused some trouble with a Cabby." Their driver said.

"Oh shut up Donovan." Sherlock sneered.

Their smirking escort set off into traffic, horns off, yet lights still blaring. "How you hanging in there Molly?"

"I feel like utter hell Sally." Molly sat eyes closed a as head leaned back. Resting after the standing.

"I can imagine. It will be worth it though as soon as you hold her. I promise you." To which Molly hummed her agreement. A familiar mantra to Molly. One that she'd drilled to herself for months on end in preparation for this exact moment.

With the lights, and cars parting to let the police car through they made it to the birth centre in record time. Sherlock silently kicked himself for not having considered this as a first course of action to begin with.

They parked by the front door and Sally jumped out to assist Molly up, and for once Sherlock was grateful for Sally Donovan's presence. As they began wobbling their way to the door, just as another contraction hit sooner then anticipated. A nurse rushed out with a wheelchair and sat Molly down pushing her in out of the cold wet day.

Sally called to him before he made it through the sliding door. "Sherlock, it's your birthday too yeah?" Looking over his shoulder he nodded distractedly. "Well, I just want to say...happy birthday. And, um... You guys are going to be great parents. Alright?"

They held each other's eyes while they each weighed and measured one another's sincerity before Sherlock gave a single nod. Sally smiled for a fraction of a second then climbed back in the car before pulling away as Sherlock allowed one brief moment and longing for nicotine to fortify himself for what lay ahead.

* * *

A/N: Yeah that chocolate cake bit... that actually happened. Food is gross during labor folks. it was 4 years before i could look at a fudge round after my husband ate one in the car on the way to the hospital. There's only one part left to this adventure.


	2. Chapter 2

Settled in a room, and changed into a drab, yet functional hospital gown Molly lay incredibly uncomfortably and waiting to hear the midwifes assessment of her nearness. "Well Molly love," came the voice of the round and kind Ms. Jones. "While we're not there yet, we are on the way. You've dilated 4cm since Tuesday when we last checked. Bringing you to 6cm's and your effacing splendidly."

Molly let out a sound of relief and frustration. "So far to go still." She mourned.

"Not to long I think, maybe five hours or so. How about we get you up off this bed and try some of those relaxation exercises we've discussed?" The small lady turned to where Sherlock sat and motioned him forward to come with a warm, reassuring smile. Ms Jones finally pulled him over to where Molly sat and together they helped Molly up into a sitting position.

"Well now dearest what shall we begin with? The birth ball? Walking?" She looked between the two who began to speak over the other.

"Walk." Sherlock said.

"Ball." Said Molly.

"The ball it is then!" Ms Jones cheerily sang as she beamed at Molly before hastening out the door to retrieve it.

Sherlock turned to Molly who was rubbing her neck and straightening up. "But what about our birth plan? We discussed this extensively over the past few months. You do of course remember how you instilled the 'Walk, bounce then bathe' program that you made me swear to? So don't you think it be wiser to walk now as planned as it will allow you to reach goals that bouncing endlessly won't? "

Cutting her eyes up to him, "The plan has changed Sherlock. We walked half of the city to get here. Bouncing will help the baby drop just as well thus making the labour go faster. I want to stay in here. The very last thing I want to do is have a contraction in the bloody hall with my arse hanging out if this gown for all of King and country to see."

"We don't have a King Molly..."

"That's not the bloody point you arse!" Molly said through gritted teeth. The next contraction had arrived, marginally sooner then expected. Fantastic progress!

"The ball it is then." He agreed walking away so that she'd miss his smile.

Hours of bouncing and breathing and bathing were wearing Molly out. Ms. Jones had been keeping her on task but the waiting was excruciating for Sherlock. Molly had things to do, the nurses had things to do. Ms. bloody Jones had things to do, but Sherlock had nothing. Oh yes, he was welcome to breath along with Molly and help her bounce. Turn her about the room for walk but that got old. Fast. Soon he himself sat bouncing (although not on the birth ball) fidgeting, and dying to do _something_. He eyed his phone sitting on the shelf where he'd silenced it to avoid the texts for updates and teasing from John, Mary, his mother and Mycroft. Looking at Molly he restrained himself. Barely. He shot to his feet, making both of the ladies in the room startle. "I need a... drink." And he went out to the hall, pausing against the wall and pulling his phone. A case. He needed a distraction from that boring room with absolutely nothing to focus on but Molly being in so much pain.

The cabbies words about this being his fault were all to true. The guilt was toxic and quick working to eat away at him. Molly would have never been in this- no he stopped himself. Molly wanted this baby. Wanted a child of their own. And honestly he had too. A child for them to raise with his curls and Molly's nose whose intelligence would be second to none. A perfect combination of his intelligence and Molly's compassion. How could he not want that experience for Molly and he?

And Yet...

Wanting this pain, no matter how temporary was harder to except. Sherlock could take physical torture. Be it via a Serbian military interrogation or Mrs Hudson's inane stories about her 'glory days' as an exotic dancer that made him want to tear his ears off. But this wasn't him. This was Molly who had to feel the pain and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. No evasive solution, no great conundrum to find. No foe to vanquish. Just wait and suffer each agonizing moan and gasp. It would be easier if she'd just scream. Maybe take some gas and relax or any other option. But not Molly, no she refused. Flat out. No matter the assistance offered by Ms.

Jones, Molly repeated her choice. She wanted to achieve this on her own.

How h e loved her spunk though! Tell Molly that there was something that was difficult task and she accepted it and worked her hardest to excel at it. Because there was nothing she couldn't do when she put her mind to it. Grabbing the bottle of water out of the fridge in the kitchenette the centre provided, Sherlock turned make his way back to the room when a voice called to him .

"Ohy you Berk! Leave something in a taxi?" A grinning Lestrade was coming through the entrance of the ward, toting their stolen hospital bag.

"I see you've retrieved the satchel, thank you for delivering it. What about the other matter of Mr. Coleman ?" Sherlock spoke, striding over to the DI.

Lestrade chuckled, handing the bag to Sherlock."I got that piece of work in the car now. Had seven warrants out for him, so thanks for that."

"It was a boon." Sherlock murmured, vaguely distracted by the muffled sound coming from down the hall where Molly labored.

"And how's our Molly doing?" The detectives sharp eyes where studying Sherlock's face closely.

"She's... Miserable but determined."

"And how are you taking it?" The grinning detective asked.

Blowing air out, Sherlock leaned back against the wall. "I can't stand to see her in this pain." He confided, his tone serious. "She still has hours left to go, according to the midwife and it's horrible to just sit there."

"Sit there and do nothing? Yeah, I've been there. Twice. But I assure you Sherlock, it's all worth it. We've just got to get you feeling productive and useful. Perhaps they have some inventory you could count." He teased. "All jokes aside, I have nothing to help you on this. It's a literal bloody hell what happens in those rooms, and you soldier are being sent to do your time on the battlefield."

"Good god, Lestrade. What the hell kind of motivational speech is that?" His face contorted to show his annoyance and displeasure.

The older man clasped the soon-to-be fathers shoulder and said. "An honest one."

"Thank you for coming again, Greg." Sherlock spoke softly.

"You're an ass!" Lestrade shouted.

"Hush. There are children present." Sherlock chided through a grin.

"Yeah, yeah. You better get back to the war-front soldier."

"Aye, aye Captain." Sherlock smirked with a mock salute.

"That's... Just... No. No." Shaking his head further. "Now go kiss Molly for me." The detective said, backing out toward the door, at least until he say the ginger nurse walked by. "Off ya go, while I chat with this lovely lady."

DI Lestrade gave his signature 'silver fox' grin and Sherlock groaned out his own moan as he went round the corner.

When he entered, the room was empty save Molly, who laid there with her eyes closed. He quietly walked over to her and sat down gently, letting her rest. Studying the face of the woman he loved so dearly, Sherlock Holmes was hit with just how crazy and wonderful it was that he was here, sitting in a birth centre and waiting for a child, his and Molly's child to come into the world.

Molly's eyes fluttered opened, widening a bit at finding him there. Sherlock reached out for her hand.

"Hi." Said Molly, as she gripped his hand.

"Hello again." Sherlock raised her hand and brought to his lips. "How are you?"

Molly shifted in the bed, "I'm not comfortable by any means of the word." She locked eyes with him. "I'm not sure how much longer I can go without relief. "

He squeezed her hand. "Molly, you are brave, intelligent and the kindest person I've ever have had the privilege to know. But you are also one of the strongest human beings on the planet. If you say you want relief from this than I'll move heaven and earth to get you the peace you need to bring our daughter into the world. There isn't a cell in my body that doubts you and your abilities to do what you have set out to do. And not a single doubt in my mind that if you need comfort that you're wrong. I love you, and I love her and whatever you choose is the right choice."

Molly's eyes began to leak tears and she pushed him off a bit. "Oh you. Just go find Ms. Jones and we'll discuss our options. This pain is intense and I can't do it much longer."

"On it boss." He rose and kissed her forehead, savoring her half smile before running to the door and yelling the midwifes name down the hall.

"I said go and find her, not bellow like a Buffoon down the hall you moronic cow!" Molly complained, the lovely smile vanished leaving her mouth drawn up in irritated indignation.

Moronic cow? That was new. He'd have to use that one.

"I swear, I should just go get her myself." Molly moved to start getting out of the bed. Not that her speed was threatening. A sloth moved at a

faster pace then his Molly in labor. "If you want something done right you have to do it yourself." She grumbled out. "Simple task."

The door of the room pushed open and in came a rushed and harried Ms. Jones. "What's going on dear? I came as soon Sherlock screamed." She looked pointedly at him. "And I am quite sure he would only call out of it is in fact a dire emergency. Am I correct?" A small tilt of the head and Ms. Jones had him in her sight. Not that the likes of Ms Jones scared him. Much.

"Molly wants to discuss pain care. Her well being is my top priority." He reasoned.

"And that would be the wonderful reason we have a call button to summon me Mr. Holmes. Not screaming about as the fishmongers are known to do. Yes?"

"But it was an effective method." He asserted.

"But not a very couth one was it? Now I shall remind you that you are not the only family giving birth here today. And while your brother made me sign a contract giving you and Molly my undivided attention, I refuse to be called like a dog unless someone is d ying or crowning. Understood?" She waited for Sherlock to assent and then went over to Molly and spoke in a far more cheerful tone. "Now dear heart, how are you?"

"I still stand by the fact that it was an effective method." Sherlock mumbled. Thankfully the women were engrossed in there discussion and he was quite thoroughly ignored.

"It's getting worse. I can't find any comfortable way to sit or lay, I need relief if this is to go on for hours yet."

Ms. Jones nodded before speaking. "Well, let's give you a check-up and see how were looking then we can discuss your options. You've done beautifully this far and there is no shame with a bit of pain relief. So I'll wash up and you lay back down. You are due to contract again soon I'd wager. Best get relaxed while you can." S he turned to the sink and Sherlock was helping settle down as Molly started to tense up. "Breathe Molly, shallow and quick. Breathe Darling. You won't have this pain much longer."

Molly was loosing all resolve. Tears filled her eyes. "I don't think I can do it." She said, fighting to take the small breaths against exhaustion, emotion and the extreme pain.

Sherlock held her hand fast and performed. The breathing pattern for her to follow along with "he he he who who who." A repeated chant till the spasm ended and she relaxed once more. The sound of Ms Jones snapping gloves on and sliding up on her rolling chair drew his attention.

"All set to check, you ready Molly?"

The midwife asked. After Molly's nod of consent she dipped down. Curiosity drew Sherlock to lean down and try to see what visible progress there may be. Swiftly though, Ms. Jones was telling Molly to relax. "Well dear, I have some good news and bad. The bad, if you would say it is that you have dilated more rapidly then anticipated and are past the point of getting any relief via spinal epidural.

"However the good news, if you will agree is that your daughter, and her lovely full head of hair is ready to come into the world!"

"I'm... Ready to push?" Molly asked amazed.

"Quite so." The older woman smiled. "Now we can use gas to ease the discomfort, but Molly I have to say it makes the process go a tad bit longer. In my experience, you would be better off pushing at your full capacity than at lower cognitive ability." She looked kindly at Molly, "But if your looking for my opinion, I know you can do it on your own. You've got me and Sherlock and you have been a champion so far. And the pain is already at it's most difficult now. It's all down hill from here."

Molly lay, looking down at her hands as she evaluated the options. Sherlock stood uncharacteristically silent while she thought, but when her eyes turned to seek his, he answered the unspoken question. "There's no doubt in my mind you can do it. But it is your choice. If you don't think you can..."

A small smile lit her face and her warm eyes glowed at him. "Maybe I can." Sherlock smirked at her. Molly never could resist a challenge.

"Sherlock, might I have a word please? In the hall." Ms Jones asked motioning him to follow her. She was done summoning assistance for the immanent birth and a few attendants were rushing in to lay out tools and prep for the baby's arrival. With a curious nod from Molly, he followed Ms. Jones out the door. Once the door closed behind him, she rounded on him. "Now Mr. Holmes, I wanted to speak to you a moment and make sure we are in the same page before we begin this business of delivering your daughter.

"Now, I understand. I do. Birth is a beautify, mystifying fascinating process. But I need your focus to stay with what is happening with Molly _above_ the waist. I think you will agree that I am extremely qualified to handle the birth of your daughter. I need you to handle encouraging Molly. Are you up to the task?"

Sherlock froze. Eyes locked with Ms. Jones's dull blue ones. It was a question he'd asked himself daily since learning he was to be a father. Was he even capable of being a dad?

"Mr. Holmes! I am not asking you to question your existential existence as a father, I am simply asking are you ready to go help Molly. So, are you?"

"Ah, well I... Yes."

"Good. Good!" She clasped his hand. "Shall we go bring your daughter into the world now?"

With a deep breath, Sherlock stiffened up his bearing and offered his arm to the midwife, escorting her back in. "Yes, we shall."

"Into battle we go Sherlock."

She intoned softly.

With a chuckle he agreed. "Into battle indeed."

"Alright now, let's deliver this sweet girl!" Ms. Jones sang brightly upon reentering the room to go rewash her hands again and dressed for delivery.

Sherlock went to Molly's side and sat on the corner of the bed. Molly he noted looked a bit terrified but energized and excited too. Reaching out to smooth a soft tendril of her hair that has spilled out of her messy bun behind her ear he whispered to her. "I have no doubts that you can do this Molly." Giving him a wobbly smile he went on. "And I'm here. For you, I will be here to hold you, time you and support you." She looked to speak but he cut her off. "I know I don't say it as often as you'd like me to, but I love you Molly Holmes. And I could not be prouder of you. You are capable of doing this. Giving it all you can. Don't hold back. And remember darling, that If your bowels accidentally release it is a perfectly natural part of the birthing experience and nothing to be ashamed of."

Molly looked at him adoring smile turning to a mortified glower at the thought he assumed. But just as quickly she laughed. Full out laughed at him. "Sherlock! You can't say things like that to me! God if I don't love you so much I would absolutely hate you!"

"I'm serious Molly. It's a very common occurrence that happens to-."

"Shut up, Sherlock."

"I just want you to be comfortable if or when it happens." He reasoned.

"Shut up! Shut up now!" She said with mock severity, before giving up and laughing. "Or I shall send you to the hall!"

"You wouldn't dare." He growled with a smile.

"Yes, well better not try me. No more discussions about my bodily fluids and functions. Agreed?"

"Agreed." But after a moment he questioned. "But just to be clear, we are still saving the placenta like we discussed, right?" He asked with a barely concealed pout.

"Yes darling. You will be allowed to keep the portion of the placenta not being reserved to play with to your hearts content. But for now can you please shut up?" Molly grimaced and keened as another strong contraction took hold of her.

"There there love, we'll have you pushing on the the next one." Ms Jones cooed.

Everything moved swiftly then as nurses finished placing equipment and donning protective layers. Sherlock was placed on the bed behind Molly to serve as a back support for her and two nurses prepped her to brace her legs. And then they waited to begin pushing.

"Good job Molly, keep pushing! Yes, good job. A few more like that and well be holding your dear one." Ms Jones said, and Molly took in deep breath after deep breath. Sherlock pulled her closer and wiped a cool rag across her brow.

"You are amazing Molly." Sherlock praised as Molly rested.

The door to the suite opened and a young assistant peeked her head in, "Excuse me, um. I have a rather insistent visitor demanding access to the room. He claims to have the power to deport me if I won't let him come back immediately!"

"Call security and have them tossed at once." Sherlock snapped.

From the other side of the door came his brothers snarky voice. "I refuse to wait in the lobby like an idiot Sherlock. Let me in the room immediately or I shall have to call in reinforcements. Don't test me!"

Sherlock tensed and began to speak but Molly grabbed his hand sharply and he stopped. She took over and

Called to his brother.

"Mycroft, I am currently spread out bare from the waist down and your nieces head is crowing out of my vagina. If you ever want to look at me again I suggest you turn around and leave this instant.

If waiting in the lobby is to far beneath you, you miserable snot, then take your pompous ass and leave. You can always come and see us when we are settled once more at Baker Street."

No reply came from the hall and so Molly cheerfully yelled out. "Ta, Mycroft."

Sherlock giggled. He absolutely giggled. The nurses smirked and Molly relaxed once more.

"Can you just imagine them all in the lobby?" Sherlock mused.

"Ugh. I'd rather not." Molly closed her eyes and leaned closer to him, allowing him to take her weight fully.

"Mmmm." Sherlock agreed.

Another contraction started and Sherlock silently supported Molly as she gave a tremendous pushing for Two contractions later and a tiny wail filled the room. Sherlock was positive that a more beautiful sound had never been heard on earth before. Molly lay exhausted against him as a nurse leaned over and placed the vernix covered child against Molly's chest. He say in awe holding Molly, who in turn held their child. The little thing calmed, when it heard Molly's sweet whispered. "Oh. Hello."

Did Molly know that those were also the first words she'd spoken to him when they first met all those years ago? The heart he so long denied possessing beat instantly full in his chest. And he pressed a kiss to Molly's temple as he reached forward to stroke his daughters cheek.

"I'm so pleased to meet you Evelyn

Marie." Perhaps they weren't the most eloquent words he could have spoke but his throat was to tight to say much else. A nurse came over and gently picked Evelyn up to go get her weighed.

Molly never took her eyes off her daughter as she spoke. "Sherlock, how about getting a few pictures?"

"Ah yes. Documentation. Right." He slid from behind Molly and went to the bag to get his phone. Sherlock snapped a dozen or two pictures of her face, fingers and toes as a nurse weighed and placed a diaper on her before returning her to him. All deemed perfect.

Molly, meanwhile was busy with Ms. Jones completing the final part of her delivery. The placenta was delivered and once a sample was removed for a core blood storage, the organ was placed into a sample bag and an unsure nurse asked where it should go.

Meanwhile, the nurse finished swaddling Evelyn and turned to hand him the baby. Ever so gently he bent down and felt the warm, solid bundle be placed in his arms. The noise faded away. The colors too even. All there was to be seen was the tiny child who weighed just over a half of a stone. Sherlock studied her closely. There were his lips, Molly's nose and the beautiful dark lashes and ebony hair. She was beautiful. "Evie" he whispered. The tiny thing's face contorted as it focused to open her eyes. The eyes were still an indeterminable grey. But the expression was one he recognized instantly as his of realization. "Yes dearest, it's me. The one whose voice you've only heard till now. I'm... I'm your Father."

Where had these tears come from!? He wasn't a silly man, so why was he weeping over the baby like an idle minded fool?

"Sherlock, hand me the the phone. Then sit. I'll get pictures of you two." Molly commanded. She was still being fussed over waist down, having to get a small series of stitches to a small tear, but there she lay, nearly sitting and grinning broadly. He passed over the camera before sitting in the chair adjacent to the bed, eyes focused on Evelyn once more. "Look at me Sherlock." Molly softly guided.

His eyes bright and blue with emotion, lopsided and slightly goofy grin, hair mussed from the labor and shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow of his grey silk shirt, was forever immortalized with tiny Evelyn, knit pink cap and generic blanket.

"She's amazing." He said.

Molly, now finished and lying on her side resting as she watched her family bond giggled a little but. "Well I told you you'd have your gift by dinner. It looks like the wrapped one will have to wait. I hope you don't mind."

"Molly." His voice is thick and gravely, the tone sounds severe even to his own ears. Pausing he cleared his throat and starts again. "Molly, she's the best gift I could ever get.

"Then you don't mind sharing your birthday,every year with her?"

"With my little bee? Never!"

"Humm, Evie-bee. I like it." Molly sighed and laid back to rest.

Sherlock stared down into the face of the newborn who lazily blinked and stared back up at him. Her brow pinched up into a tiny version of his own curious face. Smiling, he began to hum the tune to 'happy birthday'. By the time he finished, Molly had drifted off to her well deserved sleep and the nurse cleared out as well.

"I can't wait to share this day with you each year Evelyn." He kissed the tiny hand and she cooed.

Nothing would ever be the same and he couldn't be happier.

* * *

A/N: In addition to it taking me forever to write this fic, I have also transgressed on naming my Helpers. Many, many have kept me going but I want to once again thank SherlollySmooch and TheLadyLillianRose along with Just-Mindy for little inputs here and there. SherlollySmooch most notably the big about Sherlock telling Molly to have no fear during the pushing. I hope I have done her, and that bit justice.

I myself have given birth twice, without the aid of medicine, but if id been in the UK... i'd be on that gas in a heartbeat. Seriously why cant we have the nice things that they have? I read up on the birth practices and I hope I've gotten them fair, if not please forgive me and lets write it off as artistic license alright? As for owning any of this... well I don't and I don't claim too.


End file.
